


Whole

by ecrituredelafangirl



Series: Remember Verse [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Fluff, Kissing, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, in later chapters perhaps?, that time they found Musichetta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecrituredelafangirl/pseuds/ecrituredelafangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Musichetta had never felt quite like she was complete. Maybe it was the way she had felt so many times in her last life - so desperately alone. </p><p>And then they walked in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whole

It was her first day working at the bar. It was her first day… and remarkably, she wasn’t nervous. She was never nervous. Never had been, if her mother was to be believed. Never, _ever_ … Until she saw him. 

He was beautiful, all warm, sweet good looks with a smile that was a flash of pure, shocking white against his dark skin. And he was tailed by another, smaller man (his appearance also hit her like a freight train, seemingly knocking the air out of her) with a shock of pale ginger hair and glasses, his nervous mouth speaking a thousand words per minute. 

And the sight of both of them, together, set her heart racing in a way she was unfamiliar with. There was a ghost of a feeling, in the back of her skull, a deep-seated worry – _I’m going to love and lose them, both of them. They’re going to leave me alone_. And then she was grasping for words to say as they sat at the counter. 

She cleared her throat. “What…what can I get you boys?” And the taller one looked up at her, still smiling. And then, suddenly, his jaw went slack. 

“ _Musichetta_ ,” he whispered, almost reverently. And then his fingers were tangled in her hair as he drew her near, bumping their foreheads together – a little too hard, but she didn’t care. _That is his way_ , a part of her whispered. Where she should have been creeped out, she felt only _relief_. 

“O, my God,” she whispered back. Because she _knew_ him. Knew him with her soul more than anything else. He was so incredible. He and the other one, the smaller one who was staring at both of them, dumbfounded. So very _incredible_ … and somehow they were _here_.

“How? How are you here? How can you -?” she felt the tears. She felt them and couldn’t stop them. 

“O, love, o… I am so _sorry_ ,” he whispered, breath ghosting warmly across her skin. “You… I can’t… You must’ve been so _strong_. But I’m not surprised. You always, always were. I am so sorry you had to be.” 

“You’re _here_. You’re both _here_ ,” she whispered to him. And he suddenly pulled her in, pressing his lips to hers. It was soft and attentive and half of what she had missed painfully _before_ … He put his mouth right to her ear, then, and in a whisper that was hardly a breath. 

“He doesn’t remember – he doesn’t know.” And she understood without needing to be told twice. Joly’s mind had always been the softest of the three – it absorbed things like a sponge and he was _so smart_ … But sometimes he tried to say things and they came out all wrong. Musichetta knew that remembering – like she was remembering now, a sharp pain drilling between her eyes – would be a lot for him to take. She nodded gently against Bossuet’s cheek. 

_They’re here_ , her mind whispered, _they’re here. They’re with you_. And Bossuet seemed to be thinking the same thing, the way he clung to her. (Trying to be gentle, but still Bossuet and only half succeeding. She loved him endlessly anyway.) 

And then a throat cleared next to them and they both peeked over to find Joly, eyes wide behind square rimmed glasses, face red to the tips of his ears. He was looking between them with impossibly warm, impossibly wide dark eyes. And Musichetta was overwhelmed with the desire to put her arms around him. To hold onto him. To never let him go. 

“You’re new here,” he said to Musichetta, his voice brittle. And Musichetta felt the air rush from her lungs. His voice… She had missed his voice. Like a drowning man in need of air, she had missed his voice. Her breath caught. 

“I am,” she answered, nodding, wiping at her eyes as she pulled back, just a bit, from Bossuet’s tight embrace. Joly’s eyes roamed her face for a moment. If he felt any recognition, he didn’t show it. She tried desperately (and failed) not to feel disappointed. 

“Do you know Lesgles?” he asked, trying to be polite about it. But Musichetta knew Joly, knew how he loved to drink and be raucous and just love. Joly was a ball of nervously jittering love and he was one of the best things that could have ever happened to her, and she hated that he didn’t remember her, but she could take it as long as she knew he was _all right_. 

“I do, sweetheart,” she said gently, and watched his cheeks turn slightly pink. “Do you?” And Joly’s head bobbed assent. He cleared his throat and smiled at her – a warm, tentative thing. And her heart may have leaped. _His smile_ … He was brilliant and lovely and she had missed everything about him, really. But that smile, specifically - with the chipped incisor and the dimple on the left side, with the way his eyes crinkled just so and his mouth quirked up more on one side than the other, giving the slight appearance of unevenness – she had missed that smile like a physical ache. Like the way she had missed how Bossuet’s fingers fit against hers, just as they were now. He was also nuzzling ever so gently at the side of her neck, not caring who saw, and she wanted nothing more than to hold this moment forever. 

“He and I…” Joly trailed off, looking a little sheepish. 

“We’re dating,” Bossuet finished, against her skin. And Musichetta was suddenly surprised that Joly wasn’t having a more visceral reaction to his boyfriend practically necking with a girl they had never met before. 

She tried to pull away, felt her face burning, but Bossuet wouldn't release her. He cleared his throat, gazing at her face intently. 

“Joly, d’you remember what I said?” he asked, his voice low, “about how, one day, we might meet a girl, a girl we both liked? And that…she’d make us somehow…more complete?” His eyes never wavered from Musichetta’s face. In turn, hers never wavered from his. 

“I do,” Joly said. And Musichetta’s breath caught at the words. Bossuet smiled, just a bit, at her reaction. 

“This is the girl,” he replied. And Musichetta felt more than saw Joly’s answering nod. 

“I like her,” he said, that sheepish note back in his voice, and Musichetta knew he needed a drink. 

“She likes you,” Bossuet answered, finally looking down. And Musichetta smiled from one to the other of them. She breathed a heavenly sight of relief. 

“Then it’s settled,” she said quietly, and they both looked at her, Bossuet with the most tender look a man had ever given her, Joly with a broad smile no amount of past lives could ever replace. “Now… Can I get you boys anything? I doubt you came in here just to pick up the new bartender.” She cleared her throat. 

“Wait,” she said suddenly, when they paused just a moment before ordering. “Let me guess.” And she grinned down at both of them, as Bossuet slid back onto his bar stool. “I’m gonna go with…something creative with a combination of absinthe and brandy for you,” she said, pointing to Joly, who stared at her with an amazed grin and wide eyes. “I’m going to try a moonraker, actually. I read about it last week and I’ve been dying to try it.” And Joly shrugged a bit, as though he was willing to try anything. (she knew he was). “And you,” she pointed to Bossuet, “Jim Beam.” And he practically beamed at her. 

When she returned with their drinks less than five minutes later, they were both smiling at her – Joly, open and accepting and just a tad curious (probably as to who she was), Bossuet, warm and familiar. And despite the pain in her skull, she smiled back. Because there was nothing in the world she would ever trade for how it really felt to be whole.

**Author's Note:**

> I love them. I love them. I love them. O, dear Lord.. These three should never have been separated and now I have feelings...
> 
> And this is another bite of my reincarnation verse. This occurs chronologically during the five years of Enjolras and Grantaire's relationship when only Enjolras remembered who they really were. And it happens before they find Bahorel. 
> 
> I think turning this into a verse was a very good idea. I am enjoying this immensely. 
> 
> And to that one anonymous human who asked "WHERE IS MUSICHETTA" here she is - alive and well. And glad to finally be home, I guess. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you have a wonderful evening. Leave any questions or comments below, or at my tumblr address: http://ecriture-de-la-fangirl.tumblr.com. 
> 
> I hope you have a wonderful evening. :D


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